Vast And Near

A Poem by Satish Verma

To shut the methane, you sent― To shut the methane, you sent― To shut the methane, you sent―

To shut the methane,
you sent―
the barbs. The brutal
assault against the thimbles.

I will not send the
edict for withdrawl.
Even the river
was thirsty.

The freaks were
jumping on the fence.
An interrupted moon
was wary of them.

I will draw a
sand painting to heal
the man on the
beach.

The air smells
like an egg. As you
run, the mist
fills your eyes.